


Because falling's not the problem

by StarberryCupcake



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wounds, a lot of pining and fluff and a happy ending, blood mention, communication problems, enjolras-combeferre-courfeyrac magical friendship, not that much but there's a wound and some blood, pining!jolras, shameless pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarberryCupcake/pseuds/StarberryCupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"In theory, it was not all that difficult. He just had to climb up the fire escape ladder, wait in the little balcony that led to the living room/dining room until the coast was clear, enter through the window, reach Grantaire’s room unnoticed, leave the book on the desk and go back outside. A piece of cake."</em>
</p>
<p>In which Enjolras has a plan that doesn't work out as intended, Courfeyrac has some seriously complicated ideas that could use some revising, Grantaire has no idea what's going on and Combeferre has to clean up the mess. As usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because falling's not the problem

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this story in my drafts for a million years and was never brave enough to post it because it's basically not that original and very simple. I needed some fluff and pining!jolras to make me feel better and this happened, but I never thought I'd publish it. Today I finally concluded "what the hell" and here we are. I hope this isn't overly OOC and maybe someone out there is in need of some humor, fluff and pining!jolras too and this can help out in that regard. As usual, I don't own these people, I just like to mess with them in not-that-original ways.

Enjolras would be lying if he said he remembered exactly why they had been fighting in the first place. And it was a truly embarrassing thing to admit to himself, given that the particular predicament he was in was caused by the fact that Grantaire and him had been fighting quite heavily. He knew the cause had probably not been the actual ‘thing’ they had been fighting about but the context, that they had both been stressed, him with the meetings with his teachers for his thesis project and Grantaire because he was waiting to hear the results of that contest for a gallery, after having handed in the portfolio he had worked on for months. Enjolras had always been certain that Grantaire was going to win a spot in the gallery, to the point that he had bought him a commemorative present long before the actual results were published. It was a bit of a coincidence as well, since he had been looking for that precise gift for a long time; so when he actually found it, he decided to save it for the special occasion he was sure that was waiting ahead. He had not been able to foresee, though, that he would not be allowed to attend the party in celebration of said occasion.

“This is stupid, he’s my boyfriend, I have to go” Enjolras declared, sitting in his living room couch while Jehan applied what seemed like _very_ black eyeliner on his eyes.

“You both agreed to our conditions, now suck it up and learn your lesson, Daniel-san” Courfeyrac exited his room with yet another pair of colorful skinny jeans, these were a shade Enjolras would call ‘yellow’ but Courfeyrac named ‘electric mustard’.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Jehan replied, still focusing on Enjolras’s eyes and the alarming amount of eyeliner zie was applying “ _you_ came up with this idea, we were witnesses but not engineers, this is all on you”

Said idea had been proposed by Courfeyrac four days prior, when the actual fight had happened. One harsh statement followed another and stress was getting the best of them when Courfeyrac stepped in, not without sighs and face-palms from some of their friends, and proposed that from that moment forward they weren't to talk to each other for a complete week. They were to avoid each other at all costs, not even talk by phone, texts or any other indirect form of communication, and after a _‘so help me god if I find out you cheated’_ from Courfeyrac, it was decided. Enjolras was so upset in the beginning that he didn’t consider the ramifications of this idea.

It was only two days later when he found out that Grantaire had won the contest and was celebrating with his friends and classmates that very week. He had missed talking to Grantaire since the morning after the fight, when he had cooled off enough to see things from a less biased perspective, and found it very difficult not to talk things through or apologize for his harsh words. But what worried him the most was that Grantaire had purposely decided to celebrate the special occasion _during the week they were not supposed to speak to each other_. Grantaire knew quite well that their friends were going to let him know this party existed, that Enjolras would eventually find out he was left out. Furthermore, Grantaire had always been quite private when it came to his art and his classes, he told Enjolras about his day and asked him to pose for him occasionally, but he was also uncomfortable when Enjolras offered to pick him up from the art building of his University, not to mention he had never introduced him to his classmates. They had been dating for a few months, it wasn't such a long time, but it had started to become more evident as the weeks went by.

“Maybe it’s for the best, though…I mean, if he wanted me there, he would have celebrated three days later, I suppose” Enjolras sighed but became very still again when he saw Jehan frowning, the eyeliner still in zir gentle hand, covered in delicate flower tattoos from fingers to wrist.

“I’m almost done, I want to see how it looks on you” zie smiled.

Jehan had arrived to the apartment Enjolras shared with Combeferre and Courfeyrac pretty early, supposedly to help Courfeyrac with his choice of clothing for the party, but had spent most of the time with Enjolras instead, taking him out of his bed, where he was moping in a less than dignifying manner, braiding his shoulder-length hair with zir version of one of Lagertha’s hairdos, and was currently applying black eyeliner _‘to add a special touch’_. Enjolras had never used make-up in his life, not that he had anything against it, but he was completely lost in how to apply it and what the term ‘smokey’ was supposed to signify when it came to eyes. Jehan worked magic with make-up, though, and spending that time with zir had actually calmed him down.

“Still, I’m not sure Grantaire’s celebration means that he doesn't want you to be a part of it” Jehan added.

“But you can’t find out tonight, because you’re not going, and if I see you enter through that door, Enjolras, I swear you will regret having agreed to live with me” Courfeyrac adjusted his black suspenders ( _‘what do you mean nobody should wear suspenders after they turn 6 years old, Enjolras? you know nothing of fashion!’_ ).

“Courfeyrac…” Jehan turned to him but the man in question covered his eyes with his hand.

“No, Jehan, no puppy eyes, this is important and they will learn their lesson” he said, still not looking.

“And which lesson would that be?” Enjolras asked “That I’m a complete idiot for taking my stress out on my boyfriend? Because if that’s the case, I've learned”

“Well, who’s the drama queen now, Enjolras?” Courfeyrac finally looked at them “That is not the lesson, but you’re getting there.” He smiled “Is your masterpiece done, love? We need to leave soon” he fondly ruffled Jehan’s short baby-pink hair.

“Done” zie smiled so brightly that Enjolras had no choice but to smile back “You’ll feel so much better now that you’re a strong shield-maiden”

Enjolras did not feel all that better, to be honest, but the company of his friend had made a huge difference.

“Well, we’re leaving, Earl” Courfeyrac said while putting on all his many layers of coats and scarves to fight the dreadful cold weather “You’ll thank me for this one day, when you’re older”

“We’re the same age, Courfeyrac!” Enjolras let himself fall on the couch.

“Drama queen, I tell you” he sighed and left the building, not without waving smugly first.

“You should think about what you really want to do, Enjolras” Jehan smiled “I’d follow my heart if I were you” zie winked and closed the door behind zir. 

* * *

Two hours later, Enjolras still had no idea what to do with himself. He paced through the living room, tried to watch TV, worked on his thesis, revised the notes on his most recent speeches, but nothing could distract him enough.

He walked to his bookshelf, in an attempt to find something interesting to read, and saw the little book hidden between bigger volumes. Grantaire’s present had been there, hiding in plain sight, for an entire month. Enjolras took the little pocket edition in his hand and smiled.

To anyone else, the book was not what you would call a meaningful present: it was small, old, frayed and stained, but what mattered was not the actual book but the thoughts inside it and all around it. It was a rather old edition of _Dialectic of Enlightenment_ and it had belonged to Grantaire in the past. He had read it many times and added plenty of notes and doodles in the margins, in every corner available, even in the flyleaves and cover; there was also a cartoon rendition of Adorno and Horkheimer on the title page. But just a bit over a year before, Grantaire had been low on cash for a class project that involved sculpture in many different materials and, instead of letting his friends know he needed money, he had decided to sell some of his books in the small bookstore near the Musain. It didn’t take much time for them to notice that Grantaire obviously missed the little paperback edition, and when Enjolras found out what had happened, he talked to Mabeuf, the owner of the store, and had tracked the copy ever since. Enjolras never mentioned his search to Grantaire, not even when they started dating, and only a month before he had finally found the book in the possession of a media studies teacher who was very reluctant to let it go. In that month during which the copy had been in Enjolras’s hands, though, he had read it and added a few notes of his own close to Grantaire’s. Maybe more than just ‘a few’ but, to be fair, Grantaire’s points were very arguable at times. 

He looked at the book in his hands, flipped through the pages and smiled fondly at some of the notes he found. He knew Grantaire would like it but, most importantly, he deserved something to celebrate what had happened; not because he had won a space in a gallery but because he had _tried_ , despite his lack of self-confidence and his doubts. Whatever the result, Enjolras wanted to show him how proud he was and how much he admired his courage for putting himself out there.

It was stupid. Who said he couldn't see his own boyfriend? Why had such a silly fight the power to ruin what they had? It was just a misunderstanding, wasn't it? Yet, what if Grantaire decided to celebrate on that particular date to avoid Enjolras? Maybe he could just sneak his present in the party somehow. Perhaps, if Grantaire saw it the following day, among other celebratory gifts, he would see it more calmly and wouldn't have to face Enjolras, if he really did not want to.

The problem was that his friends were not going to help. Even if this had been Courfeyrac’s idea, they had all agreed on it and, for some reason, they all thought they had a lesson to learn from the punishment. Under any other circumstances, Enjolras would have been more than ok to learn a lesson his friends thought important for him to understand, but their timing was not good at all.

He just had to sneak the gift into the apartment, that was all. The book would speak for itself and say everything Enjolras couldn't, given the circumstances.

He rushed to the door and looked for his coat and scarf only to remember that his red overcoat was still in the dry-cleaners, after Bossuet had tripped, spilling his cup of coffee all over it. He knew he didn’t own anything else for the cold outside ( _‘There are more important things I could invest my money on, Courfeyrac, overpriced outwear is not on my list, I already have one perfectly good coat and I don’t need another one’_ ) so he ran to Courfeyrac’s room and sighed when he saw the leather jacket _(‘It’s not real leather, Enjolras, leave me alone’_ ). Karma was out to get him, that was certain. He grabbed the jacket anyway (after all, he was not supposed to stay outside for long), placed the book in its inner pocket, grabbed his scarf, put on his black boots and left in a hurry. 

* * *

In theory, it was not all that difficult. He just had to climb up the fire escape ladder, wait in the little balcony that led to the living room/dining room until the coast was clear, enter through the window, reach Grantaire’s room unnoticed, leave the book on the desk and go back outside. A piece of cake. The music and the laughter were so loud that Enjolras thought it would probably be easy to go unnoticed inside, especially knowing that not only his friends were to be there but also Grantaire’s classmates and random people who were ‘friends of friends of friends’, something prone to happen when their group decided to throw a party. Everyone Grantaire barely knew was there, except for him (he could almost hear Courfeyrac’s voice whispering _‘drama queen’_ ).

He had never tried to climb Grantaire’s fire escape ladder, but he had seen the man himself and Éponine do it many times, especially when Grantaire forgot his keys inside his apartment, which happened rather frequently. The fact that it was freezing cold, everything was icy and there were several layers of snow on the ground complicated things, though. But, if he was careful enough, it could work as planned. He just had to take it easy.

There was a garbage dumpster close enough for him to climb on and, that way, he was able to reach the edge of the ladder. After a few steps, everything seemed perfectly safe; the rails were extremely cold, though, and his hands started to itch.

He wasn't even halfway up the ladder when he slipped on one of the icy rungs, losing his balance completely and, unable to grasp the rails, he precipitated towards the ground. He instinctively turned to fall on the side where the book was not placed but it did not end well. The right side of his torso clashed with the edge of the garbage dumpster, after which he fell on the cold snowy ground. The sharp pain in his waist was strong, but he knew that if he didn’t climb back up then, he was probably going to back down from the whole idea.

The pain was strong but the cold was even stronger, especially since he was practically covered in snow, so his movements were slower by necessity. His steps were steadier this time around; he gripped the rails more firmly and finally got to the balcony in one piece. Kind of. He was not thinking of sharing this embarrassing experience with Courfeyrac, or anyone else for that matter. Not for a few decades, at least.

He took a peak through the window and saw the room was vaguely lit, dim lamps being used instead of the apartment’s own light. He could see plenty of people talking, dancing and just having fun, more than Enjolras had initially expected to find. Judging by the amount of people Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Grantaire knew, though, it wasn't as surprising as it seemed. Courfeyrac alone had the ability (or superpower, if you asked him) to organize an impromptu party in record time ( _‘I can offer you The Courfeyrac Experience, The Courfeyrac Experience Extended, and The Courfnado, that could reach several thousand guests, if you don’t mind where they’re coming from’_ ).

He still had the plan in mind when he spotted Grantaire in the crowd. He hadn't seen the man in four days but it already felt like weeks. His eyes were gleaming in the dim light, the way they did whenever he laughed, and even if the sound of the laughter was muffled through the music and the people, Enjolras felt like he could hear it clearly just by seeing him there. He seemed warm, in the middle of the crowd, in the center of a group of people who were happy to see him succeed, who welcomed him and made him feel at ease. Enjolras ignored if he had the same power, but he did not feel warm at all then. It may have been the freezing cold, though.

He was so enraptured with the sight of Grantaire he didn’t realize he was staring, and as if their sights were magnetically linked, Grantaire’s eyes found his across the room and through the window. The surprise was so evident in the way he stared at Enjolras that he felt he was right by assuming his boyfriend did not want him there that night.

He saw Grantaire make his way through the crowd and was paralyzed. He wasn't sure whether it was just his nerves or if the fact that he was utterly freezing had something to do with it. At least the cold numbed the pain on his waist; he was probably going to have an ugly bruise there the next day. Perfect.

Grantaire slid the door-sized window and closed it behind him.

“Enjolras?” he said, still looking at him in awe.

“Sorry, I know I shouldn't be here” he wanted to look away but felt powerless while facing Grantaire’s eyes “I was trying to remain unseen”

“You are doing a terrible job at it, you know” he sneered “Why are you here if you didn’t want me to see you, then?”

He sounded upset and Enjolras was starting to feel like his plan had been terribly stupid to begin with.

“Look, I know you didn’t want to see me, but I wanted to congratulate you and figured if I could sneak in…” Enjolras looked away then, and if he hadn't been as cold as he was he would have probably blushed.

Maybe he _was_ blushing, but he couldn't feel any kind of heat in that weather. Courfeyrac’s jacket was the most impractical piece of garment he had ever worn, that was certain.

“Sneak in? You didn’t want the rest of the guys to see you either?” Grantaire’s anger turned into confusion and Enjolras could see it clearly on his expression.

“Well, Courfeyrac said that if he saw me coming through the door he would…”

“Hold up,” Grantaire’s eyes opened wide, startled “you didn’t come through the door? How the…”

Enjolras bit his lip and saw horror taking over Grantaire’s face.

“YOU CLIMBED THE FIRE ESCAPE LADDER?” he exclaimed, and if the music hadn't been so loud, the people inside might have turned their heads “ENJOLRAS, WHAT THE FUCK?! IT’S FREEZING, YOU COULD HAVE SLIPPED!”

At that, Enjolras did blush. He could certainly feel it then. He averted Grantaire’s accusing eyes and flinched when he felt him inhale sharply.

“YOU _SLIPPED_?!”

Some heads inside the party did turn to the window then, and Enjolras wanted to Jack Frost his way out of there with ice tracks though the streets or maybe Queen Elsa his way out with more delicately carved stairs, he wasn't picky with the design.

“I’m fine, I wasn't even halfway up…”

“HALF WAY UP?!” Grantaire crossed the distance between them and inspected Enjolras’s body for injuries, lifting Courfeyrac’s jacket slightly “Where did you…”

And then, he fell completely silent. Enjolras didn’t understand what was going on until the man slowly unzipped the leather jacket, moved it out of the way and revealed the white shirt underneath.

“You’re bleeding, Enjolras” his voice was low, barely a whisper, compared to the shouts he had been communicating with a few moments before “You’re bleeding…”

Enjolras winced when Grantaire lifted the right side of his shirt but he certainly did not feel like he had been hit all that hard. He took a peek underneath the jacket and found what Grantaire had seen: his white shirt had blood on it. A very noticeable amount, at that.

“Oops…” not his most fluent response, he might admit.

“Oops?! _OOPS_?! ENJOLRAS WHAT THE FUCK?!” Grantaire turned around and opened the sliding window so harshly that some people inside jumped in terror “JOLY!”

“Oh, no, Grantaire, I’m…” Enjolras begun, but his friend had crossed the room in record time, recognizing Grantaire’s ‘medical-emergency’ tone.

“Enjolras, what on earth are you doing out here in this cold and without proper…” he was silenced when Grantaire moved the jacket out of the way once again and his horror was even more evident than the other man’s “WHAT HAPPENED?”

“He slipped on the goddamn fire escape ladder!” Grantaire explained, not looking at Enjolras “What do we do?!”

“I might have landed halfway over the garbage dumpster that’s down there and maybe that has something to do with the…” Enjolras offered in the softest voice possible.

“ _GARBAGE DUMPSTER_?!” Joly’s expression reminded Enjolras of the one he sported that time Bossuet had mistakenly opened the door of the taxi in mid-motion “COME INSIDE RIGHT THIS SECOND!” he turned around and entered the room with Enjolras and Grantaire in tow “Combeferre! We have an emergency!”

Almost everyone in the room turned around and directed their gaze to them, especially to Enjolras. He did not think his wound was as visible under the dim light and under the jacket as to attract that much attention but he didn’t know about ‘party protocol’ as much as to determine whether being the newcomer who had appeared out of thin air may have been a valid reason for being stared at like that, but he couldn't think of any other.

“Joly, I don’t think this falls into the ‘emergency’ category…” Enjolras tried to lower his tone, maybe that way they would stop all the shouting.

“What’s wrong?” Combeferre walked towards them from the kitchenette, holding a red plastic cup, and his eyes widened as he saw Enjolras.

Great, another one staring. And not just anyone but _Combeferre_. If Combeferre was surprised to see him then his friends were definitely not expecting him to be there, that much was obvious.

“What happened?” his friend went into ‘concerned-mode’ as soon as he saw Joly’s expression and approached Enjolras swiftly through the sea of people “What did you do?” he asked, thankfully not as loudly as the others.

“Why do you assume it was…” Enjolras flinched when Combeferre removed Courfeyrac’s jacket.

His eyes went wide with fear when he saw the shirt underneath. He pulled the fabric up with utmost care and frowned deeply.

“Joly, get the medical kit from Grantaire’s bathroom” he ordered “Grantaire, call an ambulance”

“ _Ambulance_? Combeferre, I’m fine…” Enjolras stopped talking when his friend’s glare reached his eyes.

“Don’t even try” he sentenced.

“Enjolras! I was wondering when you’d finally show!” Courfeyrac, completely unaware of the situation, stepped into the living room.

Jehan, Marius and Cosette were behind him; the first with a look of concern in his eyes, the other two rather surprised, just as Combeferre had been.

“Wondering…?” Enjolras frowned “But you said…”

“I knew you would do exactly the opposite I ordered, so I told you…” Courfeyrac lost his train of thought as he took the situation in “Combeferre, what’s going on?”

“COURFEYRAC, WHAT THE FUCK!” Grantaire was shouting again and if someone in the entire apartment hadn't heard already, they were definitely aware after that “YOU BROKE MY BOYFRIEND!”

It was difficult to make sense of the situation with the dim light, the loud music and the people. Enjolras could barely see Bahorel and Feuilly approaching from the kitchenette with Éponine, he could barely hear when Bossuet and Musichetta started calling for Joly who hadn't yet returned from the bathroom with the medical kit. What he could catch without a doubt, though, was Grantaire calling him ‘his boyfriend’. He hardly ever did, even if they had been dating for months, and was usually awkward when saying it, he had never been that natural, that determined. It hardly mattered then, though, Enjolras had made a public mess out of what was supposed to be an easy solution and he was suffering the consequences, including Grantaire’s rage.

“Oh my god, is that blood?” Courfeyrac, who always wore his heart on his sleeve, couldn't hide his worry “What can I do? What do I do, ‘Ferre?”

“You can help me carry him slowly to Grantaire’s room while _he_ ” he looked at Grantaire in the eyes “calms down and calls an ambulance” Combeferre was the image of patience in moments of crisis “Enjolras is going to need some stitches”

“And a good disinfection!” Joly came back with the medical kit and both Bossuet and Musichetta by his side “He fell on a garbage dumpster, Combeferre, do you have any idea…” his voice trailed off as he entered Grantaire’s bedroom.

“Come on, then, both of you” Combeferre held Enjolras’s arm and guided him slowly “This is why we can’t have parties, they always end in either blood or tears”

“Or both!” Bahorel shouted “The best end in both!”

They had exited the living room area and were walking down the small corridor when a young man walked past them. Enjolras had never seen him before and was surprised to find the man smiling at him.

“Nice to finally meet you, Apollo” he greeted, just before Combeferre closed the door behind them. 

* * *

“I am so sorry, Enjolras” Courfeyrac was sitting next to him on Grantaire’s bed, his head on Enjolras’s left shoulder.

He had received stitches and had a huge dark bruise close to the wound as well. Joly had urged the paramedics to be as thorough as they could with the disinfection and mentioned the garbage dumpster more times than Enjolras would have liked. He had been so insistent that the paramedics had given Enjolras the nickname ‘garbage dumpster guy’, which added an extra humiliation spice to his terrible day. Joly had left after them, to tell everyone how Enjolras was doing and, thankfully, the party hadn't been stopped because of him, which was a good sign. The last thing he wanted was to ruin Grantaire’s celebration even more.

“It’s alright, Courfeyrac, it isn't your fault” Enjolras sighed and played with his friend’s curls “Your plan was terrible, though, but your intentions were good”

“Excuse you, my plan was not terrible,” he straightened up and looked directly at Enjolras’s eyes “it was reverse psychology at its finest”

“What are you talking about?” Enjolras was about to cross his arms but winced when he felt his right side sting.

Combeferre had explained that the pain had been slightly numbed because he was ‘freezing like an idiot’ ( _‘is that a medical term, Combeferre?’ ‘Shut up, Courfeyrac’_ ) and as soon as the effect of the anesthesia he had received before the stitches started fading, he was going to feel the pain even more sharply. Moving was, according to the medical student, completely out of the question, so he was immobilized in his boyfriend’s bed, the same boyfriend who had _not_ invited him to the party he was currently crashing and who had _shouted_ at him _repeatedly_ that night. Fantastic.

“What did I forbid you to do this week?” Courfeyrac asked, smiling smugly.

“I couldn't be around Grantaire…?” Enjolras tried to pull the most un-amused face he could perform.

“And what did you want to do ever since the day I said that?” he continued, still smiling.

“I was angry that day!” Enjolras moved and Combeferre used his ‘warning glare’ on him.

“Come on, I live with you” Courfeyrac winked “You were _moping_ ”

“I was not…” Enjolras sighed “Ok, I’ll play along, you’re trying to tell me that you didn’t let me talk to Grantaire so I would end up _wanting_ to talk to Grantaire?”

“That’s the thing, Enjolras, you weren't talking to Grantaire _before_ ” Courfeyrac pointed at him with his orange-and-yellow-polished index finger “You were speaking but you weren't listening, and neither was him, so you weren't really _talking_ ”

Enjolras’s look must have been a puzzled one because both Courfeyrac and Combeferre sighed heavily.

“You and R have something in common: you know how to speak. You both speak a lot, you both know how to deliver a message, just not in the same way” Courfeyrac gesticulated with his hands, like he did whenever he was trying to get a point across “You make beautifully crafted speeches, ordered and clear, even when you don’t write them down beforehand, you know how to explain things for people to _understand_ , you clear things up and explain, passionately and without a doubt.” he smiled “And then there’s R, whose speeches seem like random and haphazard but which have layers of meaning and references and quotes and anecdotes, which make you _doubt_ , think that maybe you missed something, maybe something’s not how you thought” Combeferre nodded in agreement and Courfeyrac continued “So sometimes you tend to just speak in your different wavelengths and end up not listening to what the other is actually saying. I figured that if you spent enough time without hearing the other you’d use it to understand what was lacking and realize that nothing had really happened…”

“We were just stressed and throwing words at each other” Enjolras sighed “We’re idiots”

“Very smart and fluent idiots, though” Courfeyrac smiled and Enjolras decided that it was wise to overlook the pain of his wound to hug his friend as tightly as he could.

“Be careful with the…” Combeferre started, but Courfeyrac brought him into the hug as well.

They stayed like that for a while, holding each other and breathing each other in, recharging their energies in the warmth of their best friends.

“What did we learn today kids?” Combeferre asked, as they broke apart.

“That I should listen more?” Enjolras offered.

“And?” Combeferre pointed at his wound.

“And that I should think things through before doing something completely reckless?”

“You tend to disregard your personal safety more than you realize, Enjolras” Combeferre frowned with concern “Please, don’t do that”

“I promise I’ll pay more attention” Enjolras smiled and Combeferre returned it, kindly.

“And I learned I should proof-check my plans with ‘Ferre because they can explode in my face and/or make my friends fall into garbage dumpsters” Courfeyrac smiled innocently.

“Can we not mention that object for the rest of the year, please?” Enjolras sighed.

“Do you want to talk to R now, Enjolras?” Combeferre stood up from the bed, followed by Courfeyrac.

“I don’t know, he seemed more surprised to see me than I initially expected” he frowned “Actually, you all did…I know I wasn't supposed to be here but…”

“No, Enjolras, we weren't surprised that you were here” Combeferre smiled “It was the…uh… _getup_ ” he gestured vaguely at him, like englobing his entire being.

The blond cocked an eyebrow and looked at Courfeyrac’s leather jacket, lying far from him and sporting an ugly rip on its right side, just like he did.

“Not the jacket, Enjolras” Courfeyrac laughed “I can’t believe you forgot”

It was not easy for Courfeyrac to stop his laughing fit enough to say something coherent but once he did, Enjolras wished he hadn't.

“Did you really forget that Jehan had given you the whole ‘Lagertha’ look?” he said in between guffaws.

Enjolras’s horrified expression was enough of an answer for both of them.

* * *

Several minutes passed before Grantaire entered his bedroom and faced Enjolras. He looked more hesitant than before, avoiding his gaze and closing the door behind him very softly, leaning on it for a while. 

“The two Cs sort of kidnapped me there for a bit.” Grantaire walked awkwardly towards the bed but didn’t sit “Courf explained what the hell he was trying to accomplish in the first place and Combeferre insisted that I shouldn't shout at you anymore…even if I really _really_ wanted to”

“I’m sorry” Enjolras flinched “I know this was very stupid, I admit that, but you have to understand that all I wanted was for you to know that this means a lot to me too because _you_ mean a lot me…maybe I should have waited for the week to end before giving you your gift”

“Is that all you wanted to do? Give me a gift?” Grantaire frowned.

“I thought it would translate my feelings, given that you didn’t want to hear them from me” Enjolras was the one avoiding Grantaire’s gaze then, choosing to play with the bedspread instead.

“What…why do you keep assuming that I didn’t want to see you?” Grantaire sighed “It’s not normal in you to play the victim like this, you know…”

“Play the victim?” Enjolras frowned and looked at Grantaire again “You made a party on a date in which I was explicitly not supposed to see you, knowing that our friends would let me know. Besides, it’s a party to celebrate _your work_ , which you’re increasingly more reluctant to let me see, not to mention you avoid introducing me to your classmates or even let me walk you to class…”

Grantaire’s expression changed to one of surprise and Enjolras would have sworn that he could see guilt in his eyes as well.

“You noticed that…” he mumbled.

“Well, yes, Grantaire, of course I noticed!” Enjolras realized he had raised his voice and sighed, before continuing in a more calmed manner “I thought maybe both things were related and I wouldn't blame you, after the fight we had, for trying to avoid me. I apologize for what I said and for not respecting that you didn’t want to see me, but I thought that the most honest thing to do was to let you know somehow how I really felt” he smiled “Maybe this was not the best approach, though”

“It absolutely wasn't,” Grantaire frowned again but there was more concern in his expression than anger “what if you had hit your head instead, Enjolras? What if you had been knocked unconscious in the cold? We wouldn't have known… _I_ wouldn't have known…you could have…”

“R, R, breathe” Enjolras extended his arm invitingly, asking him to sit beside him in the bed, which Grantaire immediately did “I’m fine, we’re fine” he grabbed his hand and let Grantaire grasp it until he needed to, until he was convinced that he was there and that he was fine “I understand how reckless I can be when it comes to my own safety and I see now that it was not ok of me to make all of you worry like this” he caressed Grantaire’s hand with his thumb “I didn’t think and I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry too. You’re not the only one with terrible plans that backfired…” Grantaire sighed “It’s not that I threw the party tonight because I didn’t want you here but quite the opposite”

“Oh, no, not another reverse psychology thing…” Enjolras was going to have to talk to Courfeyrac about keeping his ideas to himself.

“No, it was more like a…a very coward attempt to get you here?” Grantaire offered, hesitant “I really wanted to see you…especially to celebrate this because you were there for me during the whole process and encouraged me to try this and…I was scared that you’d still be upset with me, so I thought if you came to me first…” he laughed bitterly “At least your stupid idea was brave and you respected what you thought were my wishes…I tried to manipulate the situation, I’m awful and selfish but…” he bit his lip briefly, in a clear attempt to gather his words carefully, and Enjolras recognized his effort as he remembered Courfeyrac’s comment on Grantaire’s speeches “I still feel like this is a dream that I’ll wake up from any second, us dating. It’s not easy for me to say aloud that you’re my boyfriend or to trust blindly that you won’t change your mind as soon as I fuck up big time. It’s not about you…or, well, it’s partly about you but it’s mostly about me and how I can’t see myself being truly happy, without a hint of hesitation, fear and self-deprecation. I was not confident enough to trust that you were going to be alright with us being back together after what happened.”

“Grantaire, it was a silly fight…I mean, clearly the aftermath wasn't silly but what caused it…I don’t even know what it was about at this point, we were just throwing words at each other, and we’re _both_ at fault for that. We need to learn to communicate at the same wavelength sometimes.”

“Courfeyrac?” Grantaire smiled.

“Courfeyrac” Enjolras smiled back, fondly “So, you weren't embarrassed of me? That’s not the reason why you avoid introducing me to your classmates and letting me visit your college?”

“Why on earth would I ever be embarrassed of you?” Grantaire turned to him fully then.

“I don’t know, maybe you fear that I’ll start trying to incite your friends to get unionized…which I would actually do, to be completely honest, because some galleries really fuck you guys over and…” Enjolras trailed off as he noticed he was getting out of track considerably fast.

“If I was embarrassed of that part of you, Enjolras, I wouldn't be dating you, never mind being as in love with you as I am. You could start singing ‘Seize the Day’ in the entrance of the art building and I still wouldn't mind, even if I'd rather not join in.” his smile was genuine, warm, and Enjolras instinctively leaned closer “The thing is…ugh…how do I say this…”

Grantaire scratched his neck nervously, clearly hesitating, and Enjolras held his hand encouragingly.

“My classmates kinda know you already…because I tend to paint you a lot.” He sighed “And a couple of weeks ago, we had to do an Ancient-Greece-inspired art project and I…remember that time I asked you if I could sketch you when we were in bed?” Enjolras nodded and noticed Grantaire blushing more furiously than he had seen him in a long while “I kind of used that as my base for a painting. I mean, you weren't naked, you were covered appropriately, and I didn’t expect it to get the attention it did…”

“Attention?” Enjolras cocked an eyebrow.

“I painted you as Apollo. A fully-clothed Apollo, I swear. It was for my teacher’s eyes only but next thing I know, she was praising it and calling it an example and putting it up in the college hall where they hang the most ‘remarkable’ paintings, which is really stupid because who can judge if a piece of art is ‘remarkable’ or not, but the point is, you were sort of immortalized as Apollo in the college hall for a couple of weeks and I didn’t know how to tell you and I knew my idiot classmates were going to say something if they saw you…” Enjolras was not sure how Grantaire was breathing while also talking so remarkably fast.

“Oh, so that’s why!” Enjolras smiled “A random guy called me ‘Apollo’ in the hallway and I had no idea what he was talking about”

“Ugh, see? That’s what I was saying…”

“But Grantaire, why wouldn't you tell me? I’d love to see that painting, I’m sure it’s fantastic, you should take it to the gallery show…”

“What? Aren't you angry?” he frowned, his confusion clearly noticeable.

“You asked my permission to sketch me and I accepted. I trust you, Grantaire, I don’t mind people seeing me there because I know they’ll see me through your eyes, and _I trust you_.” Enjolras held his hand more firmly.

Grantaire turned to him and, with his free hand, caressed Enjolras’s cheek fondly, looking in his eyes intently.

“So, how can I manage to kiss you without hurting you?” he pointed at Enjolras’s wound.

“Your kisses never hurt me, Grantaire” Enjolras said, and Grantaire laughed.

“You’re _so_ cheesy sometimes, I never expected you to be so cheesy, I swear” he whispered as he leaned in.

The kiss was short, contained, careful but warm and welcoming, like the promise of more to follow it soon. Their lips stayed close for a while after it ended, brushing softly before parting lazily.

“Am I allowed to ask about the hair and make-up?”  Grantaire smirked.

“Oh, I keep forgetting about that!” Enjolras hid his face in his hands “That’s what you meant when you said I wasn't doing a good job at being unnoticed, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you were aware that you showed up in my party looking all…”

“Silly”

“Gorgeous” they both said at the same time.

“What?” Enjorlas looked up from his hands.

“What?” Grantaire asked back “Do you feel silly with it?”

“I haven’t…I didn’t really look…I just assumed” Enjolras blushed “I’m not used to make-up, I was just appreciating Jehan’s company”

“You look beautiful” Grantaire laughed “Maybe I’m biased, though” he got up from the bed and walked to his desk, retrieving a rather battered piece of mirror from it “See for yourself”

Enjolras took the mirror in his hands and looked. His braids still looked in place, even if his hair was messy due to the fall in the snow. His eyes looked so much brighter under the black eyeliner and mascara, even if it was a bit smudgy after everything that had happened. He did look a bit like a warrior, a wounded one at that. A warrior who had lost a fight with a fire escape ladder and a garbage dumpster.

“So I entered your party looking like a wounded Viking, after they had all seen me as a Greek god in a painting.” He smiled “They must have some strange expectations of me”

“Do you like it, though? The make-up?” Grantaire asked “Because that’s what matters”

“Yeah, I guess I do” Enjolras handed the mirror back to Grantaire “But I don’t think I’d attempt to apply it myself just yet, I’d look like a wounded Panda instead. It’s all Jehan’s magic, really.”

“The combo with Courf’s jacket and your boots was breathtaking, I have to say” he straightened Courfeyrac’s jacket, which was lying on his chair, and the little pocket edition precipitated towards the floor.

“Oh, that’s the gift” Enjolras clarified, as Grantaire picked it up.

“You mean the gift that was so important you risked falling…” Grantaire’s words trailed off as he turned his gaze from Enjolras to the little book in his hand “This is…this is my…”

“I was looking for it since you lost it but only found it a month ago” Enjolras smiled “I hope you don’t mind that I added some notes of my own inside it”

Grantaire let himself fall on the bed once again, sitting next to Enjolras, but never losing sight of the little volume on his hands. He opened it and started looking through the pages, his eyes wide and his expression astonished yet incredibly _happy_. Enjolras knew then that he would gladly face all the garbage dumpsters in the world to see Grantaire’s eyes look like that again.

“I can’t believe…you had this for an entire month without even telling me?” Grantaire’s eyes were still fixed in the volume, as he turned the pages carefully, gently, with utmost love and care.

“Yes, but I looked for it since you lost it,” Enjolras couldn't stop himself from smiling at seeing Grantaire’s joy “The teacher who had it was very reluctant to part from it; actually, I think she has a crush on you and your comments”

“That’s…no, that’s not possible” Grantaire turned to him then, his eyes open wide and gleaming.

“Yeah, she asked if you were single, I had to tell her…”

“No, not that” Grantaire shook his head vigorously “You started looking for this when I lost it? Enjolras that was…that was before…”

“Before we started dating, yes” Enjolras cocked en eyebrow “And I would have given it to you even if you said no to the first date, I’ll have you know, I wasn’t going to kidnap it forever…”

“If I said no, are you for real right now?” he looked at the volume and then back at Enjolras, disbelieving “This is…I can’t even put into words what all this means to me, Enjolras, and you know I never run out of words”

“That’s good, because I didn’t have any words to describe what you mean to me either, that’s why I wanted the book to show you” he smirked “I’m glad I didn’t ruin it on my rocky landing”

“Enjolras, I love the gift more than I can put into words but if you think I’d rather have you hurt, then you’re gravely mistaken” he looked deadly serious then “No more dumpster diving, no more reckless ladder climbing, not even for marvelous and extremely romantic gestures like this one”

“I promise” Enjolras leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips “But now you have to go back to your party” he tried to push Grantaire gently off of him but the man rested his head on Enjolras’s shoulder.

“Do I have to?” he groaned.

“Yes, and don’t worry, Combeferre said I’ll be immobilized in your bed for a while, so I’ll be here when you come back” he smiled.

“This is not quite like the scenario I pictured of you willingly immobilized in my bed” Grantaire smirked.

“You’ll have to elaborate on that later, but now go and mingle with your party”

Grantaire leaned down and kissed Enjolras one last time, before exiting the room. He left the door open, though, and because all of their friends made Enjolras company at some point of the evening, he was never really alone: he heard from his place on Grantaire’s bed when Courfeyrac mockingly sang a very good rendition of ‘To Excess’ to Marius, just to see him blushing furiously and make Cosette laugh wholeheartedly; he could eat almost everything that was available because Feuilly and Bahorel somehow managed to deliver him a banquet of snacks from the kitchenette; Bossuet congratulated him on pulling off a ridiculous stunt he had never done before when he visited with Musichetta and Joly; and he was also introduced to some of Grantaire’s classmates, who looked at him as if he was some kind of strange entity that shouldn't have existed among them.

When all the people but the thirteen of them had left, Jehan approached to help Enjolras out of his hairdo and make up, as kindly as zie had applied it in the first place. Grantaire offered them to stay the night, or more appropriately, the morning, and they all laid somewhere around his room, sleeping as they could. Enjolras had ended up sandwiched between Combeferre and Courfeyrac in Grantaire’s bed, who had entered the room last, after tidying up as much as his energy allowed him to. He took a glimpse of the entire room, where all his friends were lying on the floor, the bed, the couch and different surfaces, creating a minefield of lovely people. He then looked at Enjolras, who was the only one awake, and saw him smiling, like apologizing to Grantaire for the mess yet still comfortable in the middle of the people he cared for so much.

They didn’t speak, they didn’t touch, they just looked at each other fondly and then Grantaire sat in a cushion on the ground next to the couch, just across from Enjolras, and took the little volume from the desk. He winked at him and Enjolras fell asleep with a smile on his face.  

**Author's Note:**

> * Title of the fic comes from Florence + The Machine's song "Falling"   
> * Jehan's hair would be something like [this](http://www.pinterest.com/pin/400961173047129179/) and zir tattoos would be something like [this](http://www.pinterest.com/pin/400961173047174109/)  
> * For those of you who don't know, Lagertha is not only a legendary character but also a character in Vikings (a shield-maiden and an Earl, hence the references) with the most amazing braids ever and the hairdo Jehan sort of made on Enjolras was [this one](http://www.pinterest.com/pin/400961173047129249/). Enjolras's hair was more or less like [ this](http://www.pinterest.com/pin/400961173047129219/) in this fic, and the make up too (here I am, changing my Enjolras face claim once again, this time is Mihail Tokarev). And yes, I have Pinterest boards for the characters, they help me out a lot.   
> * Of course that the reason why Courfeyrac was doing a karaoke rendition of ‘To Excess’ was inspired by Fra Fee, but you probably guessed that.  
> * There are too many references in this fic for my own good, I don't even remember if there was one more I had to clarify  
> * This is clearly unbetaed and I apologize for the mistakes you may encounter. I'm not used to writing non-binary characters yet (but I'm trying my best) and since English isn't my first language, I struggle with pronouns at times, so I apologize if I made a mistake there and you're welcome to point out if I messed up in that regard.   
> * I apologize for the lack of originality in this one or if it's too OOC for your liking, but I think writing it made me feel a bit better, so that's a good thing in itself.   
> Thanks so so SO much for reading!


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